


Strategy

by queenitsy



Category: High School Musical
Genre: Get-Together Fic, M/M, Wooing Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-16
Updated: 2007-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenitsy/pseuds/queenitsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scheming runs in the Evans family, so when Ryan decide he wants Chad, he puts together a plan to get him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phase One: Optimism

**** _Introduction _

   Lists and plans were a way of life in the Evans family. Both parents were entrepreneurs, and highly organized; when they’d joined forces, first as business partners and then when they’d gotten married, they’d harnessed all of their skills and created Evans Inc, a company that was now worth over a billion dollars. And they applied that same rigor and efficiency to everything else in their lives, including raising children. For everything they did, they had lists, goals, objectives, and strategies.

    So it was no wonder that in the aftermath of the staff baseball game, Ryan found himself mentally numbering the things that were on his mind.

    First, that he should wear red more often. If he did say so himself, he’d looked passably hot, in a jockish way, wearing Chad’s jersey. Not that he’d had the hair for it—he’d worked the jersey, yes, but the baseball cap, not so much.

    Second, he entertained some thoughts that in the upcoming year he might, for the first time in his life, not be last picked for everything in gym class. Despite the fact that he was still a pointy-kneed dancer, a bunch of the school’s jocks had seen him strut his baseball skills, and it did seem like they’d had at least a _little_ respect for his athleticism. He was surprised by how much that mattered to him. After years of it just being him and Sharpay, he’d never even realized there were other options.

    But third, and most importantly, he’d come away from the game with the absolute knowledge that Chad Danforth was attracted to boys. True, the jock was either in complete denial of that fact, or somehow hadn’t noticed it yet (but then again, Danforth was known for his jump shot, not his intelligence) but straight boys weren’t ever so eager to trade shirts with known queers. Or to let said queer put hands all over their bodies in order to learn a none-too-hetero dance routine.

    No, it wasn’t even a question; Chad Danforth was gay. _Maybe_ bi, though Ryan wasn’t honestly convinced of that. He’d seen Danforth’s attempts at flirting with Taylor, and how embarrassed everyone around was for him. And he’d seen the hurt looks Danforth had give Troy Bolton, when (from Ryan’s limited understanding—following Sharpay’s schemes got so _exhausting_ after awhile) they’d had a best friend breakup. Danforth seemed to feel more upset at Bolton’s betrayal (such as it was) than Bolton’s own girlfriend had been. Also not generally a sign of healthy, normal heterosexuality.

    Point was: Chad Danforth was gay, and he somehow made his unique hairstyle look good, and he was somehow able to wear _athletic wear_ and look kind of hot instead of patently ridiculous.

    Fourth and finally, Ryan realized Danforth was charming in a none-too-bright way, he had a great smile, and for some reason, when Danforth had given him a look of appraisal, then smiled and draped his jersey around Ryan’s shoulders…Well, Ryan wasn’t the type who swooned, so he hadn’t, but the flush in his cheeks hadn’t been entirely from the physical exertion of baseball, either.

    The question became, what to do about it? He’d watched Sharpay’s whole scheme collapse around her, and was actually a little ashamed of his role in it—they were still awkward around each other, which they never had been before, and Ryan really wished things would just go back to normal. But what he’d learned from Sharpay was that out-and-out bribery combined with financial blackmail wasn’t the way to go; it just made a mess of things. He’d get nowhere with Danforth by alienating him from his friends.

    Okay. Then he’d need to plan this out _very_ carefully.

    He flipped open his laptop, a gold computer with his initials etched on the top in calligraphy, and began to type up his strategy.

 

_Phase One: Optimism_

**_****_**  
    Ryan regarded himself in front of his full-length mirror. He looked, if he told himself, pretty damn chic. Ryan had spent the last several years of his life refining his personal sense of style, and had discovered it all came down to a hard-to-maintain balance. On the one hand, he had to look _fabulous_, absolutely the pinnacle of male fashion at all times. He had to make it clear he was queer and out, just in case anyone attractive and equally queer happened to glimpse him. He also had to broadcast wealth—not so much he’d scare off potential boys who likely _weren’t_ as wealthy, but enough to make it clear that attempting to kick his ass would have serious consequences. Like lawsuits and financial ruin.

    But the problem was that Chad Danforth…well, he probably wouldn’t go for the queer, androgynous, beautiful look. Not judging by the lingering, desperate looks he was always giving Bolton. No, obviously Danforth wanted a more masculine type, someone as jockish as he was.

    He was staring dismally into his wardrobe, picking out the few passably sporty pieces he owned, when Sharpay wandered in. “Hey, Ry, I was thinking today we should hit the spa and…What’s the fashion emergency?”

    He sighed. “Contemplating a new look for the upcoming year.”

    She looked at what he’d picked out. “Are you going for anything in particular, or general slack-jawed member of the working class?”

    “I was thinking I might try to look a little more hetero,” he admitted. “I mean, obviously I’ll need to class it up some, but…”

    She considered, then declared, “What you have now will never do. If you’re going for reinvention, we’re going to need to do some _major_ shopping.”

    “You up for it?”

    “Always. Though it does make a girl wonder…your sudden reinvention wouldn’t also have anything to do with a renewed interest in baseball, would it?”

    “I used to be pretty good.”

    “Oh, Ry, promise you aren’t going _jock_ on me.”

    “No, no, just experimenting. I’m not planning to audition for the basketball team or anything.”

    She smiled. “I don’t think that’s what they call it in sports, Ryan.”

\--

    Seven hours of shopping later, he definitely made it a point to swagger by the basketball court where the Wildcats were having their nightly two-on-two match.

    “Hey, where you been all day?” called Troy, looking cheerful.

    Ryan stopped and gestured at himself. “Me?”

    “Yeah.” Troy passed the basketball to him. “You. You weren’t around all day, Gabi said you missed your usual pool tanning session, and Javier said he saw you and Sharpay leave this morning.”

    Ryan considered, then passed the ball back to Troy. “Shopping.” He indicated his outfit: new sneakers, jeans, a thick belt (with_out_ the sparkly buckle he’d wanted originally—too gay, sadly), and a red and white ringer T. He felt awkward wearing a plain T-shirt, which he hadn’t done in ages, but Sharpay had found a whole slew of Ts that fit him properly, that made him look, well…kind of manly. Definitely _boyish_, which was as close to jock as he was really willing to go. And, though he still wasn’t sure he could carry it off, he was wearing a purple Arizona Diamondbacks cap at a slight tilt.

    “Looking good,” Troy said amiably.

    “Nice hat,” Danforth added behind him.

    Ryan shrugged modestly, inwardly pleased. Their shared baseball game was the reason he’d settled on that particular hat. “Thanks. Hey—there are about fifteen bags in my car and a fifty buck tip for anyone who wants to carry them in for me.”

    He waited as calmly as he could. This move was a gamble—he wouldn’t have been shocked to learn that the Wildcats overall resented his family’s money. He would have, in their place. On the other hand, he was willing to risk it (and to pay) in order to do some recon work. He didn’t know Danforth well, and shaping the later phases of his plan would take a bit more knowledge.

    “Hey, Troy—you take it,” Danforth suggested, slapping his friend’s shoulder. “Gas money, you know?”

    “Yeah,” Troy agreed. “Hey, you’ll get your car soon.”

    “End of the summer, dude.” Danforth grinned.

    Troy laughed, tossed the ball to another of their friends, and jogged over to join Ryan. As they walked back towards the resort’s garage, Ryan commented, “He’s buying a car?”

    “That’s his plan,” Troy agreed. “He’s been saving for a year now.”

    “What’s he looking at?”

    “Well, Chad’s always been into classic cars,” Troy mused. “I know he’d love to get something old—he’s really into 50s and 60s stuff.”

    “Yeah?” Ryan filed that away for later use. He was pretty sure that one of his parents’ cars qualified as a classic. It might be time to start driving it to Lava Springs…

    “Yeah,” Troy said. “He’s probably going to end up with an old Chevy from the 80s, though.” Troy laughed. “He’s been scoping cars all summer, that’s about all that’s in his price range.”

    “That sucks,” Ryan mused.

    “Yeah, but hey, a car’s a car, as long as it runs, right?”

    “Right.”

    So Danforth was into cars. Interesting.


	2. Phase Two: Interaction

Ryan didn’t do basketball, and Danforth didn’t do dancing, so baseball was about the only place to meet in the middle. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a convenient major league team in or around Albuquerque. Arizona had the Diamondbacks, Texas had both the Astros and the Rangers, and Colorado had the Rockies, but they all were too far away for Ryan to realize he had a _convenient_ extra ticket to, and hey, wouldn’t it be nice if a baseball-loving friend wanted to go with him?

   Well, maybe come fall, if he was desperate and one of the four made it into the post-season. But he planned to have this whole Danforth business wrapped up well before then. Which meant he had to be creative, find some other way to use baseball to manufacture situations where he and Danforth could spend time together.

    Luckily, he had all of Lava Springs at his disposal.

\--

   “Okay, something is going on,” Sharpay said, as Ryan sent Fulton off a set of party plans, for an exclusive party—all the better to distance himself from Sharpay and her schemes, at least as far as everyone else know. He actually understood why she took such pleasure in plotting; intrigue could be fun.  “I know that look. That’s a scheming look.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryan said guiltily. He had been grateful for Sharpay’s expertise on his shopping trip, and it had been a lot of fun, almost like old times. But they still hadn’t talked about how she had ditched him for Troy, or how he’d helped Kelsi ruin her big number. And he still felt pretty rotten about all of it; still hurt by how she’d ignored him and guilty over how he’d helped ruin her big moment.

    Sharpay raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Really? We were raised by the same nanny, Ry. We approach problems the same way. I know all your signs, and I know you’ll ‘fess up eventually.” She put a hand on her hip. “And if you tell me now, I can help.”

    “I’m not sure you’d want to.” He sighed. When her plans with Troy had imploded, she’d returned to her usual, completely disdainful feelings towards the Wildcats as a whole. “You’re not going to like this.”

    “Then you should _definitely_ tell me now, so I can talk you out of it before you get yourself too involved.”

    “I don’t want to be talked out of it, I don’t think.” He paused. “I’m seducing a jock.”

    “Well, that explains the new wardrobe. Follow.” She turned and walked towards his suite; sighing, Ryan followed her. Once they were safely inside, she sat down on his bed and said, “Details. Who and why?”

    “Don’t hate me. Danforth.”

    “Danforth?” She frowned. “With the hair? Who follows Troy everywhere he goes?”

    Ryan nodded.

    “Is he gay?”

    “Very definitely.”

    “Out?”

    “Not yet. Hence my plan.”

    She sighed. “Why him, Ry?”

    Ryan flushed a little. “Have you seen him with no shirt? I have.”

    “Impressive?”

    “Well, my goal is to get his pants off, too, so.” He smirked.

    She gave him a serious look, and he remembered that no matter what had happened between them, Sharpay knew him as well as he knew himself. The smirk had been a cover for not wanting to talk about this, and that was just the wrong thing to do—now she knew he had some reason not to want to talk.

    “Wait, let’s be clear on this, Ry,” she said firmly. “You’re trying to get in his pants, or…”

    “There’s another option?”

    “Or you _like_ him?”

    He froze. She rolled her eyes.

    “You do, don’t you? You _like_ Chad Danforth. And this sudden reinvention of yours is to try and make him like you back.” She leaned forward, gave him a serious look. “If he doesn’t like you for who you are, Ry, forget about him.”

    “I think he does,” Ryan said. “I mean, this,” he gestured at the day’s t-shirt, “is just to wake him up to the fact that there are boys other than Troy Bolton in the world. But when we talked and hung out some…I mean, he actually seems to respect me. He thinks it’s _cool_ that I do choreography. He said so.”

    “Give me context.”

    Ryan paused as though he had to think about it, when in fact he had the conversation burned into his memory. “We were taking a break from working on the staff routine for Star Dazzle,” Ryan said finally. “I told him he was doing a good job, catching on pretty fast. He asked me where I had learned to dance, so we got talking about it, how long I’ve been at it, all of that. Finally he just said, ‘Well, man, it’s too bad there’s no Wildcat dance team, ‘cause you’d be the captain. That’s so cool you’ve got a thing you love. I really respect that, man.’

    “Which, well, it sounds to me, anyway, that that was Danforth’s rather ineloquent way of not only telling me he respects me as I am, but comparing me to his boycrush.”

    Sharpay considered and finally nodded. “I suppose that’s fair enough. Though I reserve the right to destroy him and everything he loves if he hurts you.”

    Ryan smiled. “Naturally. This is why I need you,” he said awkwardly, hoping she’d sense the olive branch in his words.

    She scoffed. “Of _course_ it is.”

    “And I really am sorry about that thing earlier this summer.” He sighed. “I was pissed, but…”

    “Yeah,” she agreed. “Consider it forgiven and forgotten. I wasn’t exactly being the best sister at that point, and hey. I need you too. So.” She smiled, and Ryan knew it would be okay between them. “Show me this master plan of yours, Jazz Square.”

\--

    The fliers went up the next morning for a blow-out party all resort members were invited to. It centered around baseball’s All Star Game; the ballroom was going to have a giant hi-def TV brought in (and a few other screens for people sitting in the back) to watch the game on, and a surround sound speaker system set up. The descriptions promised it would be the next best thing to being there—ballpark hotdogs available for people who wanted them, and real cuisine for those who preferred it.

    And of course, it was members only. Ryan made sure to stick close enough to the staff members to overhear discussion of it, without looking like he was eavesdropping.

    “Hey, of course it’s members only,” Troy said, sounding pretty upbeat. “I mean, it’s nice of them to do staff events sometimes, but this really isn’t our place.”

     “Yeah, I guess,” Danforth answered. “We’ll just have to make sure we get off work early enough to get home for it.”

    “Right, buddy.”

    That sounded like his cue. He’d rehearsed this with Sharpay—having a sibling who was a drama freak was helpful for some things. “Hey, guys.” He stepped forward, smiling, his hands in his pockets.

    “Hey, Ryan,” Troy greeted him cheerfully.

    Ryan looked at Danforth, who finally said, “Hey.”

    “Uh, I didn’t mean to overhear you guys,” Ryan said, which was a lie, but then again, this whole thing was a setup. “But if you want to go to the All Star party, you know…we do events like that every summer, but they’re never as full as we plan. There’s always extra food and stuff.” He shrugged. “I bet my parents would totally let you come.”

    “Really?”

    “Well, yeah. I mean…let me know how many of you want to go,” he suggested. “I’ll ask. But it should be totally cool.”

    “Thanks, man!” Troy exclaimed. “We’ll let you know. That’s awesome.”

    “No problem.” Ryan’s smile, at least, was genuine. “Least I can do for friends, right?” He glanced at Danforth. “Especially friends who love baseball.”

    Danforth looked startled, then grinned. “We’ll be there,” he said.

\--

    Arranging having the Wildcats attend the baseball party was easy enough; his parents didn’t honestly care, and actually thought it was great to see him getting along with his classmates. So he gave them the good news, and come the evening of the game, the majority of the Wildcats showed up at the party.

    Ryan let Sharpay dress him and do his hair, and made sure to show up fashionably late. Not late enough that he looked like he was _trying_, but he made sure Danforth was there before he was. The downside to this was that most of the available seating was taken. He glanced around from the doorway, and was quite pleased when Danforth happened to glance at him, then waved him over.

    Of course, he waved with a hotdog on a stick in his hand, but nothing was perfect. Ryan realized just how smitten he was when he found that ridiculous gesture _endearing_. So he swaggered over, and Danforth slid over in his chair to free up the edge, with an eyebrow quirked up in what was clearly an offer. Ryan shrugged, holding back a too-happy smiling, and seated himself.

    “Good day?” Ryan asked. They were pressed together on the chair, both half-off on one side; Ryan shifted some of his weight against Danforth for better balance, and Danforth didn’t pull away or anything.

    Danforth shrugged. “We got a bunch of shipments in and had to lug boxes around all day…I’m betting your spa treatment was probably more fun.”

    Ryan winced. “Sorry.”

    “Nah. At least you got us all in here, right?” He shot Ryan a grin that was surprisingly wide and charming. “I mean, I’ve never seen a TV that huge.” He gestured at the mammoth flat screen at the front of the room. “And like, these dogs, they’re awesome.”

    “Glad you like.” Ryan smiled.

    They turned their attention to the game, and Ryan was mildly shocked when the National League jumped out to an early lead. He had eventually decided he was an NL fan—he’d defaulted to it when he’d become a Diamondbacks fan as a kid—but he never expected them to win the All Star game, because they never _did_. But evidently, Danforth was an NL fan, too, because he also started cheering. And when they both realized that, they turned around and grinned at one another.

    “Hey, can I ask you a question?” Danforth asked during a lull in the game.

    “If it’s to have your chair back to yourself—”

    “Nope.” Danforth laughed nervously. “I mean, I don’t mind sharing with you.”

    Ryan smiled. That was a good sign. “Sure, ask me anything,” he said.

    “It’s kinda…like, personal, or something,” Danforth added.

    Ryan blinked. “Okay.”

    Danorth hesitated, then mumbled (barely audible over the party around them), “You’re gay, right?”

    “What tipped you off?”

    Danforth looked a little startled at that. But finally said, “Um, you know, it’s…you…”

    “I’m flaming?” Ryan suggested.

    Danforth definitely blushed at that. “Well, maybe…maybe a little.”

    Ryan, curious and hopeful about why this had come up, decided to throw him a bone. “I’m not offended. I don’t mind you asking.”

    “Okay, but…” Danforth looked around nervously. “Like, does anyone ever…I don’t know, give you crap about it?”

    “About being gay?” Now Ryan was _really_ curious where this was coming from. “Not…not really. I get weird looks occasionally, I know people at school talk about me behind my back and it isn’t all nice, but you know…The people I’m friends with, spend time with, my family…I guess the people I care about, none of them have ever had a problem with me.” He considered. “So I guess, no…I don’t get any crap. None that makes a difference, anyway. But I guess I’m pretty lucky about that.”

    “Oh.” Danforth looked contemplative, then stood up. Ryan almost pitched over, as they’d been pressed close together on the chair. “I’m gonna go get some more junkfood. You want?”

    “Sure.” Ryan grinned. “I’ll save your seat.”

    Danforth laughed as he walked away. Or maybe ran—the kind of questioning that led to asking questions about being gay did tend to freak people out. So Ryan wasn’t surprised when Danforth returned and opted to sit on the floor with other friends.

    But it was good enough. If Danforth was asking questions about him being gay, it meant there was a reason he wanted to know; Ryan decided Danfoth hadn’t sounded freaked out or disgusted by how open Ryan was, which meant he hadn’t been asking so he could _stop_ being friends with Ryan. So there was another reason for his curiosity…getting to know a friend better, or something else.

    Ryan smirked up at the screen, despite the fact that the American League finally woke up and took the lead in the All Star Game.


	3. Phase Three: Introspection

It was serendipity and not Ryan’s plotting skills that that made phase three possible. Lava Springs kept its members well informed of any interesting or exciting events happening in the Albuquerque area, and when Ryan saw the flier for a classic car convention, he grinned.

    He called and reserved space for two people, then waited around to catch Danforth getting off work. “Hey.”

    Danforth looked up. “Hey. I was just—just about to clock out. You need something before…?”

    “No, nothing like that.” Ryan gestured at the time clock. “I actually had an entirely non-work-related question for you.”

    “Yeah?” Danforth swiped his timecard. “What’s up?”

    “So it looks like there’s a classics convention in town this week…”

    “Yeah, I know.” Danforth nodded. “It’s a huge convention, too. Man, if I wasn’t saving everything I’m making, I’d totally be there…”

    “Actually,” Ryan grinned and caught his eye, “I was thinking about going. I mean, I don’t know much about cars, classic or otherwise, but they _look_ cool on the flier. Dad was talking about maybe me getting a new car if I keep my grades up this semester, so…Well, anyway, I was kinda thinking, if you wanted to come with me, that would be cool.”

    Chad stared, wide-eyed. Then shook his head, but more like he was trying to wake himself up than anything else. “I, well…Like I said, I’m saving now…”

    “Don’t worry about it… I know nothing about cars, like, at all, but Troy said you were really into them. Sharpay definitely isn’t, and I could use some company.” He smiled. “My dad said he’d cover it, so.”

    “And you’d just, like…bring me with you?”

    “Sure. I mean, if you want to go. You could help me figure out what’s what, you’d be doing me a favor. And…” He caught Danforth’s eye, and god, he was blushing for real now, so much for seeming cool, “And, you know, you seem like a cool guy to hang out with for a day.”

    Danforth smiled broadly. “I guess I am,” he said, cocky. Ryan laughed. “Seriously, though, yeah—I mean, I love cars.”

    “Great.” Ryan slapped his arm playfully. “I’ll pick you up at nine on Saturday, okay?”

    Danforth nodded. “Awesome. Thanks, Ryan.”

    Ryan shrugged. “No big.” And he swaggered off, feeling cool after all.

\--

    After internal debate, Ryan settled on wearing a typical outfit, not his new jock-style, and themed it pink and blue. He kept the sparkles on his hat to a minimum, though. He borrowed his parents’ classic, a Chevy Impala, and swung by Danforth’s house. Danforth jogged out and stared, then ran his hand over the hood.

    “You getting in or what?” Ryan asked.

    “Yeah. This is so awesome, man. It’s _so awesome._ What year is this?”

    “Sixty-seven,” Ryan said. He glanced at Danforth as he got in, and saw that he’d actually dressed up…kind of. No jeans; he was wearing grey slacks and extremely out-of-style black shoes with a blue button-down shirt. No tie, which didn’t surprise Ryan, and his top two buttons were undone, which was actually kind of hot. The outfit didn’t work at all, but it was obvious he was trying.

    “Nice shirt,” Ryan commented.

    “Oh, it’s, um, thanks.”

    Yeah. Danforth had definitely tried to impress him.

    Ryan smirked as he drove off.

    The truth was he didn’t care about cars, classic or otherwise, at all. The idea that he might get one based on his grades had been improvised on the spot. But by the time they arrived, Danforth was all but bouncing in his seat. Ryan gave the security guard his RSVP information and they were waved in to park, and then Danforth bounded out of the car and stared around.

    “This is _awesome_,” he murmured, just seeing the cars parked in the lot. “Oh, man. I swear.”

    Ryan didn’t bother to hide his grin.

\--

    Lunch was mediocre pizza and sodas eaten in a shady pavilion. They didn’t have a lot of room and ended up sitting thigh-to-thigh, leaning over a picnic table. “This is so awesome,” Danforth said again, a phrase which Ryan was starting to consider Danforth’s personal mantra, given how often he repeated it.

    “Yeah?”

    “Mph.” Danforth swallowed a mouthful of pizza. “That is, yeah. _Dude_. This is like…amazing. Man, if I could afford even _one_ of these cars…Even one that doesn’t run, I’d fix it up myself.”

    “You know how to fix cars?” Ryan asked, genuinely surprised.

    “Sure,” Danforth said. “I know sports and cars and not a lot else.” He laughed good-naturedly, and his curls bounced. Ryan had to tap his fingers carefully against the table to avoid reaching up and playing with them. “I mean, I take autoshop. And one of my uncles owns a garage, he says I’ve got a job waiting after graduation if I want it…I know it’s not exciting or anything,” he said, shooting a nervous look at Ryan, “but I love cars and hate school, so there’s no way I’m doing college, unless I get a basketball scholarship.”

    Ryan nodded. “Hey, if it’s what you like doing…”

    “So what about you? Dance college?”

    Ryan laughed. “Well, something like that, probably. A theater program somewhere.”

    Danforth shoveled down another piece of pizza—Ryan was glad they’d ordered a whole pie instead of slices—guzzled some more soda, and finally said, “I doubt you need any classes. I mean, you’re already like…crazy good. You should be _teaching_.”

    Ryan ducked his head a little, grinning. “Thanks.”

\--

    “You want to grab dinner?” Ryan asked, after hours of walking through cars. They’d even taken a couple for test drives—ostensibly because Ryan was considering buying them, and then he’d have to let _Danforth_ drive to make sure the car “felt right” to a mechanic, because Ryan hadn’t been lying and really was entirely clueless about cars.

    Danforth, needless to say, had been thrilled.

    “Yeah, that would be great!”

    “Cool. I know a place.”

    Actually, Ryan and Sharpay had a default first-date restaurant in downtown Albuquerque. It was a place with a wide enough selection that picky eaters could find something, with good mood music at a non-intrusive volume, where the meals were priced expensively enough to be impressive but not so high it was intimidating to dates.

    “So…” Danforth mused, after they had placed their orders, “I have a question.”

    “Shoot.” Ryan tried not to grin; the last question Danforth had prefaced like that had been about being gay. Which was definitely the direction Ryan was willing him to think in.

    “Why did you stop playing baseball?”

    “Huh?” Well, that wasn’t what he was expecting.

    “Why did you stop? You’re good, man. I mean, no one on the Wildcats pitches as well as you do, and you said you hadn’t played in years.”

    “I dunno. I guess a couple reasons.”

    “Like?”

    “Like…Partly because of dancing. I mean, I was pretty serious about dancing and baseball, but my dance instructors were constantly bugging me to drop ball—too much chance of getting hurt, you know?”

    “Yeah.”    

    “And also…” Ryan took a deep breath. “I mean, I quit in fifth grade. It was…I guess it was about then that everyone started to realize I was different than other boys and even though I don’t think anyone on the team had figured out _how_ yet, they just knew I was weird and they didn’t like it. They didn’t really like _me_ anymore.”

    Danforth furrowed his brow. And Ryan realized he’d never talked about this before, not with anyone. Sharpay and his parents had all known that by the time they’d won their championship, he’d stopped really having fun; that he didn’t hang out with teammates anymore, that he came home demoralized, even after wins. No one had ever asked him why, though, and he figured that after he’d announced he was quitting to focus on dance, no one thought there might be more to it than that.

    Somehow, though, talking to Danforth about it was easy. Danforth was a jock, he knew what teams were like; and he knew, Ryan was sure, what it felt like to be awkward around your teammates, to wonder what they’d think if they really knew…

    Too much thinking, not enough talking. He continued, “So I didn’t want to deal with them. But in dance…you know, I run into a lot more guys like me.”

    “You mean gay?”

    Ryan nodded. “So I guess…I dunno, I miss playing the game itself sometimes, and I do really miss being on a team, but I think I made the right choice.”

    Danforth seemed to mull it over. Finally he commented, “So you go out with guys from ballet, or whatever?”

    “Occasionally.”

    “Are you, like…do you have a boyfriend?”

    “Not at the moment, no. I have been sadly single since,” he paused to think, “May.”

    “Long time,” Chad said.

    “You’re telling me.” Ryan laughed a little, and Danforth grinned at him.

    “So, wait,” Danforth said, as though something were just occurring to him. “Then is there any chance you’d be free Saturday afternoon?”

    Ryan, to his credit, didn’t jump the gun on rejoicing. He just said, “I suppose I am.”

    “Great.” Danforth’s grin widened. “Because that’s my birthday, and I’m kind of having a party. Nothing too exciting or anything, mostly just family and cake with candles and all that, but you should totally come.”

    Ryan blinked. “Yeah, I totally will.”[  
](http://temira.livejournal.com/47935.html)


	4. Phase Four: Observation

Phase four had been hurriedly added to the plan when Ryan had informed Sharpay of the invitation. After she’d gotten over her initial disgust that Ryan was going to willingly spend a day at Chad Danforth’s house, they’d sat down and rehashed the rest of his plan.

    Mostly it involved finding an excellent present, dressing right, and being as polite as humanly possible to Danforth’s family. After all, everyone knew Ryan was waited on at Lava Springs—time to show he didn’t really need it, he wasn’t a snob. He could handle that.

    Figuring out what to get turned out to be harder than Ryan had initially thought. He and Sharpay spent two hours throwing around ideas and then throwing them out—courtside basketball seats for that winter were way too extravagant. Signed game balls (basketball _or _baseball—in fact, Ryan had a signed Randy Johnson ball in his bedroom at home, left over from his baseball enthusiast days in middle school) had the same problem. Expensive, extravagant, and (as Sharpay put it) they absolutely screamed, “Hi, I would like to see you naked.”

    It got to the point where Ryan had almost decided to just buy Danforth a damn car and have done with it (“At least we might be able to screw in the backseat!”) when Sharpay declared, “Shoes.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “Shoes.” Sharpay nodded.

    “Um, that’s a little gay, even for me,” Ryan laughed. “I mean—shoes? Why the hell would Chad Danforth want a new pair of _shoes_?”

    “Well, you said the ones he wore to the car thing were terrible, so there’s that.”

    “Right, but I don’t think he’s interested in having them replaced.”

    “Then not dress shoes.” She rolled her eyes. “Sneakers. Baseball spikes. Something sporty.”

    “He already has at least four different pairs of sneakers.”

    “You’ve been keeping track?”

    Ryan shrugged. “I don’t have a flowchart or anything.”

    Sharpay reached over to ruffle his hair and he pouted and tried to fix it as she continued, “Look, we know he’s making crap money here for the summer. And we both know that shoes—even ridiculous sneakers or whatever—are expensive if they’re any good. He probably shops at WalMart, so I sincerely doubt that any of his four pairs of sneakers are especially high quality.”

    “I doubt he shops at WalMart,” Ryan said defensively. Sharpay raised an eyebrow. “And anyway, what the hell do I know about sports shoes?”

    “Maybe you don’t,” Sharpay returned, “but I do believe we employ a few trainers here at Lava Springs who might.”

\--

    Ryan didn’t take the Impala to Danforth’s party, he took the station wagon his mother had bought a few years previously, when she’d been in a ‘normal, all-American family’ phase. (It had also involved her attempting to cook the family’s meals for the first and only time that Ryan could remember, a disaster that led directly to remodeling the kitchen to cover all the scorch marks, and giving their live-in chef a sizable raise. Apparently, creating a business empire and cooking dinner were not activities that had a lot in common.)

    His driveway and the roadsides most of the way down the block were full, leaving him relatively little room to park, so he found himself walking down the sidewalk to Danforth’s house, wrapped shoebox under one arm. He was wearing an outfit he was unsure of—he had never really done khakis before. He’d almost gone crazy and bought a pair of Capri khaki shorts, but Sharpay had brought him back to his senses. So today it was khakis, sneakers, and a light blue buttondown shirt…open over a white t-shirt with the logo of a diner in LA on it. He felt ridiculous, but Sharpay assured him it was sexy and casual. And of course a hat—a trucker hat at a cocky angle. Very Ashton.

    Before he could knock on the door, it was flung open and someone grabbed his wrist. “Hi!” He let out an undignified noise as he was yanked into the house by a young woman, probably just a couple years older than he was, who has deep brown skin and hair which, aside from being a little bit longer, was identical to Danforth’s. “Everyone’s out back.”

    “Uh, okay. Hi?”

    “Hi!” she said again. “I’m Lisa. Chad’s cousin. You are here for his party, right?”

    “Yeah. I’m Ryan.”

    “Oh!” She led him through the house and out a back door onto a porch. Ryan stared. The yard was crowded with people, a net was strung across one section of it, and he wasn’t at all surprised to see that a whole corner had been paved and there was a basketball hoop mounted above it. There was a picnic table covered in bowls and plates of food, and a grill with a whole bunch of people crowded around, yelling eagerly.

    “Hey, Chadders!” Lisa called.

    Danforth broke away from the grill-admiring crowd, looked up, saw Ryan, and waved eagerly. Lisa grabbed the gift from him and said, “I’ll add this to the pile—nice to meet you!” and skipped off.

    Ryan walked nervously from the porch down to the grass and Chad had an arm around his shoulders a moment later. “Welcome to casa Danforth,” he said loudly. He gestured at the gathered crowd, most of whom were also dark-skinned and curly-haired, and announced, “Family, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is the family. I’d tell you their names, but there’s no way you’d remember them all. To tell the truth, I don’t know how I’m related to most of these people.”

    Ryan laughed nervously.

    “We’re about to bust out the food—Dad’s manning the grill, he says seventeen still isn’t old enough to be trusted with it.”

    “Any chance you’ll ever be old enough?” Ryan asked, overwhelmed but glad of the warm reception. Danforth’s arm felt comfortable around his shoulder, and it was really nice to see him so enthusiastic, and as confident as he usually was at school—something Ryan had noticed he often lacked at Lava Springs.

    “Not as far as he’s concerned. Dad is very into grilling.” Danforth did some quick introductions—Ryan found out he had an older brother and a younger sister, saw both of his parents, met his grandfather, had two aunts and four uncles pointed out, and was told everyone else was a cousin. A few minutes later, as Ryan tried to digest all of that, a bunch of Wildcats came running into the yard from the house. Ryan was relieved to recognize most of them, though when they saw _him_, they all looked quite surprised.

    It was Bolton who finally broke the shocked silence. “Hey, Evans! What’s up, man?”

    Ryan shrugged. “Hanging out.”

    “Cool.”

    “Hey, how’s the grill?” Danforth yelled to his dad.

    “Quit pestering me!” his dad yelled back.

    A group of younger cousins ran by, giggling, and planted themselves on the basketball court. Danforth made a noise of slight protest—Ryan assumed that was where the afternoon was heading, though he assumed that with trepidation, as basketball was definitely not a strength of his—but the oldest of the group had already begun drilling the rest of them on, Ryan was surprised to see, basic ballet positions.

    “Oh, jeeze, we were gonna play!” Danforth yelled at them.

    “Too late!” the oldest girl, who Ryan guessed was about thirteen, yelled back. She went back to the “lesson” she was teaching, which Ryan watched with amusement. She was leading three girls, the oldest one probably about eight and the youngest only three or four.

    “Come on!” Danforth yelled.

    “Play volleyball!”

    “It’s my birthday!”

    “Deal with it!”

    Danforth scowled. “They’ll get bored soon. Ali’s only four, she doesn’t have much of an attention span.” He sighed. “Well, we might as well play volleyball until the court is free.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Hey! Volleyball game—who’s playing?”

    Ryan was surprised that a significant group gathered in that corner of the yard. One of the cousins who seemed to be about Danforth’s age—Ryan eventually figured out his name was Tom—began stepped over and sized up Danforth, smirking. “It may be your birthday, but I’m still older and better.”

    “Says you.” Danforth smirked right back. “Come on, Tom, let’s choose teams.”

    “Sure, sure.” Tom glanced around. “Bolton, come on.”

    Most of the gathered group made an “ooooooh” noise, and Bolton shrugged. “Sorry, Chad,” he said, and Ryan realized that Bolton had probably spent a significant amount of time with Danforth’s family. The two had always been nearly inseparable, after all.

    Danforth shrugged, nonplussed. “Evans.” He gestured Ryan over.

    Ryan cleared his throat. “Uh…okay.” He supposed that being first picked for Danforth’s team _had_ to be a very good sign. He had never been picked first for anything in his life.

    “Him?” Tom laughed. “Looks like he should be dancing with the girls.”

    “Hey!” Danforth snapped. “Watch what you say, awright?”

    “Touched a nerve?” Tom asked, sizing up Ryan.

    Ryan raised his chin and tried to look confident. Luckily, he was a pretty good actor—given that he had no idea how he’d fare at volleyball.

    “He dances, okay?”

    Tom laughed, which made Danforth look more angry. “You’re kidding me. A male dancer? That’s like…a step below male cheerleader. At least _they_ can look up skirts.”

    Danforth opened his mouth, but Ryan beat him to it. “You got a camera, Danforth?”

    “Huh? Yeah, probably.”

    “Great. Having a picture makes it so much easier to savor someone’s complete humiliation. Let’s make sure it’s ready at the end of the game.”

    Danforth laughed and everyone else let out went “oooh” again.

    “You want to play or talk? Or did you need to change into your tights first?”

    “You want to know the truth? The guys who hate wearing tights, they’re the ones who know they won’t look very impressive with everything on display.” Ryan was genuinely smirking now.  “I have no problems in that area.”

    Another “oooooh,” and Danforth gave him an enthusiastic pat on the back. “Just pick your team, Tom, so we can get down to destroying you.”

    Tom did so, and they ended up playing with seven-person teams to accommodate everyone who wanted to play. Ryan had no way to judge which team would be better, since he knew nothing about Danforth’s family.

    The game got started quickly. Ryan was actually pretty impressed—despite the steady banter of trash talk between Danforth and his cousin, the game itself was clearly all for fun. Even the family members who were watching, not playing, gathered around and cheered whenever anyone made a good move, no matter which team he or she was on.

    Due to the size of the teams and not being the most aggressive person playing, Ryan himself rarely actually had to worry about the ball. It did come at him from a hard spike when he was at the front of the net at one point—but instinct kicked in, and he was able to get it up in the air again as much to protect himself as to keep the game going. Moments later, Danforth barreled into him from behind, knocking the ball over the net and both of them forward into it.

    “Oops,” Danforth said sheepishly, as he disentangled himself from Ryan.

    Ryan did not blush, to his credit. Instead he straightened his hat—or rather, checked that it was properly crooked, and said, “No big. Come on, your serve, Danforth.”

    Danforth grinned, reached forward to knock Ryan’s hat out of place, and said, “Heads up, my serve kills people.”

    “No one on this side of the net!” Tom yelled, as Ryan fixed his hat again. “Bam—straight into it every time.”

    “Yeah, keep talking and it’ll be straight at your head,” Danforth threatened.

     “All talk!” Lisa yelled, watching from the sideline.

    Danforth shot her an annoyed look, but sure enough, Ryan found himself ducking abruptly as the ball rocketed just over his head and straight into the net in front of him. He retrieved it and tossed it back to Danforth for a second try, and this time it made it across.

    Tom scrambled to lift it, and Bolton spiked it down. It was a perfect spike and the ball rocketed downwards just on Ryan’s side of the net. And apparently, Ryan was a better—or at least more instinctive—athlete than he’d realized, because he dove for it without thinking and managed to knock it up above his head. One of the other cousins leaned down and got it higher up off Ryan’s bump, and a third came in and sent it back over.

    It hit the ground between Tom and Bolton, and a round of cheers went up. Danforth jogged forward and leaned down to offer Ryan a hand up off the ground. “Nice dive,” he said.

    Ryan looked down at his shirt. The button-up was covered in dirt. With a sigh, Ryan pulled it off, tossed it over onto the grass at the edge of the poorly-defined court, his hat with it, and went back to take his place. Danforth was gawking at him.

    “You get really into sports, man,” Danforth said. “I mean, look at you…dirty undershirt, no hat.”

    “Would it ruin the effect if I said I’m going to need a manicure tomorrow?” Ryan answered, looking at his nails critically. Dirt was definitely ground under them.

    Danforth laughed. “You are so awesome, man,” he said.

    “Hey! You want to talk or flirt, Chad?” yelled Tom.

    Danforth froze. Ryan made himself take a deep breath. Okay, well, _he_ was flirting. He didn’t think Danforth had picked up on it, or was likely to, but he’d forgotten that the rest of the family might not be as oblivious. But then Danforth laughed and Ryan realized _he’d_ been reading too much into it; it was just more smack talk between family members.

    Probably for the best.

\--

    A picnic cloth had been spread out over the yard and they were perched on it, sitting on the ground and eating burgers and hotdogs off paper plates. There was corn on the cob and some salad, too, but Ryan followed the lead of the boys around him and shunned the vegetables.

    Tom plopped down next to him. “Hey.”

    Ryan swallowed his mouthful of burger. “Hey.”

    “Uh, I just wanted to say, you know…sorry about the dancer cracks. I’m just used to talking that way with Chad. I didn’t mean anything by it. No hard feelings, right?”

    “No hard feelings about getting your ass handed to you by a male dancer?”

    Tom laughed. “Fair enough. Good game you played, dude. You bring it to the basketball court like that?”

    “Nah,” Ryan said. “I didn’t even know I could play volleyball until just now.”

    “So.” Lisa plopped down on Ryan’s other side. “You really dance, or what? Like…” She nodded to the gaggle of little girls who’d been doing ballet. “Like them?”

    “I’m a tiny bit more advanced then that, after…” He thought. “Not quite thirteen years. Damn.”

    “Holy crap! So are you, like, _professional_ or something?”

    “Nah. I mean, someday. Maybe.”

    “That’s so cool,” she giggled. “How did you ever meet a loser like Chad?”

    “Actually,” Danforth put in, sitting down on _her_ other side, “we go to school together. But we only started hanging out together when I got tricked into dancing at my job.”

    “You got him to dance?” Lisa asked, impressed. Ryan shrugged modestly. “You must be good.”

    “I’m alright.”

    “I want to see.” Her eyes lit up. “Chad, make him dance for us.”

    Danforth elbowed her. “Don’t harass my friends.”

    “Come on, Ryan.” She grinned. “Chaaaaad. It’s your birthday. Ask him to.”

    “No!”

    She looked at Ryan. “Please?”

    He shook his head. “Couldn’t possibly. I don’t have my shoes with me…or my tights.”

    Danforth laughed. “So you really wear tights?”

    “And a unitard.” Ryan nodded. “With sparkles.”

    “Well, of course. Why would you ever wear a unitard with_out_ sparkles?” Danforth returned.

    Ryan laughed. “Exactly!”

    “I have to see that some time.” Danforth shot him a wide grin.

    Ryan was glad he’d put his hat back on. Hopefully it would shadow the blush that was somehow creeping across his cheeks.

\--

    The cake was, Ryan had to admit, amazing. Or rather, cakes—it took a lot to feed a clan the size of Danforth’s. And after cake came presents. Danforth had all the glee of a little kid; Ryan supposed opening presents never got old.

    “Hey!” called Tom, passing Danforth another present. “This one’s from your new boyfriend over there.”

    Danforth accepted the box, but looked up and stared at Ryan, then Tom.

    “What the hell is with you, man?” he snapped at Tom, who looked startled.

    “What do you mean?”

    “I mean—all day it’s been these stupid jokes and comments about, about Ryan and being gay, and—”

    “Dude, I didn’t mean it!” Tom protested. “I was just joking!”

    “Well, stop it!” Danforth yelled. “It’s not funny! It’s never been funny, and it’s less funny right now, okay?!”

    Everyone looked kind of stunned.

    Ryan made very sure not to make eye contact with Danforth at that point. Giving someone a sexual identity crisis at his own birthday party was terribly rude.

    “Chad, I wasn’t…dude, I’m sorry,” Tom finally said.

    “Yeah, you should be.” Danforth glowered.

    “Chad, honey,” Mrs. Danforth murmured. “Are you okay?”

    “I’m _fine_.”

    “Did you want to tell us anything?”

    “No! What are you _talking_ about?”

    “Nothing, sweetpea.” She kissed the top of his curls. “Open your present. Just…You know we—all of us—well, we’ll always love you no matter what.”

    “Mom, _what_ are you talking about?”

    She looked at Ryan, who was pointedly studying a cloud.

    “Nothing. Just a very special mom way of saying happy birthday.” She ruffled his mop of curls. “Now get back to opening presents. We’re all waiting.”

    Danforth gave her a dubious look and picked the package back up. He ripped off the wrapping and saw the shoebox; when he opened the shoes and saw them—the best pair of running shoes Ryan could find—his face lit up. And any awkwardness he seemed to have felt seconds previously was gone, clearly, because moments later he had his arms around Ryan’s neck as he kicked off one of his shoes, and he yelled gleefully about something involving track and field and his hundred-yard-dash time.

    Ryan smiled shyly. And wasn’t too surprised to see that most of Danforth’s family _and_ most of the Wildcats who were there were giving him measuring looks.

    He sincerely debated whistling innocently. If this didn’t do it, he was going to give up hope.


	5. Phase Five: Desperation

“At some point,” Sharpay told him, “you’re going to have to run this through a simple cost-benefit analysis. It’s not paying off, Ry.”

    Ryan sighed. It had been a month since he’d first put the plan together. School was on the horizon, and though he was _certain_ Danforth was questioning and perhaps privately freaking out, and also probably crushing on him, nothing was happening. It had been a week since his birthday party, and Danforth had barely spoken to him since. In fact, Ryan was pretty sure Danforth had been avoiding him—not showing up where they might run into each other, always being in a group when there as no way to avoid seeing each other, and not saying much and hurrying off quickly when that happened.

    Ryan was beginning to suspect he’d overdone it. Danforth might be a little too freaked out; maybe he just wasn’t ready to come out yet, and Ryan’s pushing, even though he’d thought it was subtle, had been too much for him to handle.

    “I mean, even discounting the new wardrobe, let’s see. There was the money for the All Star party—”

    “That wasn’t mine, that was part of the resort’s recreational budget!”

    “Uh huh, which you embezzled for personal uses.”

    “Like _you_ should talk,” he pointed out, though she had a point and obviously knew it, because she continued.

     “There was the time sacrificed to that ridiculous auto show. The money you spent on his shoes—not to mention laundering everything you wore that day.” She shook her head pityingly.

    “So I got a _little_ dirty.”

    “Not in the ways you hoped.”

    “Well, no. But look, Shar,” he said, trying to sound reasonable, “Danforth is hot, period. If all this does is eventually convince him he’s gay, I will have done a great favor for some gentlemen down the line.”

    “Very giving.” Sharpay rolled her eyes. “You’re out of ideas, aren’t you? He threw you for a loop inviting you to that party, and now your plan is _completely_ off the rails.”

    “Not quite. I have one idea left.”

    “Oh?”

    “Well. It’s a long shot. I don’t know if he’d even show up.”

    She arched an eyebrow. “Tell me about it.”

\--

    Ryan was actually pretty nervous when he saw Danforth playing basketball. He was on his own, taking a break from work while Troy finished up with the last group in the dining hall—which was Sharpay and her friends. She’d promised to keep him busy so Ryan could try and catch Chad alone.

    “Hey,” he said.

    “Hey.” Danforth shot the ball and looked at him.

    Ryan had given up on the jock wardrobe; if it was going to do any good, it would have already. He was wearing his favorite pair of pink pants with a white polo shirt and a fedora with a pink hatband.

    “How you doing? We haven’t….you know, hung out in awhile.”

    “Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Danforth shrugged. “I’m getting my car soon, though.”

    “Cool, cool. So…”

    “Hey, look.” Danforth tossed the ball nervously from hand to hand. “I know I kind of freaked for a few minutes last weekend. I just…”

    “Yeah?”

    “I didn’t want you to think, like…I mean, Tom always makes fun of me. But like…I wasn’t offended when he called you my boyfriend. I mean, I’m not…I’m not homophobic. I don’t think.”

    “I’ve never thought you were.”

    “Okay…good.” Danforth nodded. “Hey, these shoes are awesome, by the way.”

    “Glad you like.” Ryan paused. “So, like…here.” He pulled a flier out of his pocket and passed it to Danforth. “I know everyone was just joking about the whole wearing tights thing, but…you know, in case you were actually curious.”

    “A dance recital?” Danforth asked, reading the paper.

    Ryan nodded. “I totally get it if you don’t want to go watch a bunch of people, you know, twirl around for an hour.”

    “Will there be girls there?”

    “I’m pretty much the only guy.”

    “Hm.” Danforth cocked his head, tousling his curls. “I’ll think about it.”

    “Cool.” He smiled.  
\--

    Actually, Ryan wasn’t thinking of Danforth at all when it came to his recital. Dance was something that put him in a whole other world. The shows he did at school were fun, and he’d really enjoyed directing and choreographing the staff that summer, but pure dancing was his real passion.

    As he warmed up, he wondered vaguely if Danforth might actually be in the audience, but as soon as the curtain went up he forgot about it. He’d helped choreograph the first couple of routines, which were performed by younger kids who were taking lessons. He watched from the wing with pride until he had to prepare to go on himself.

    His class was the most advanced, and he was proud that he had a lot of stage time virtually to himself. He was pretty sure he was the best student at his school, and knew he was really just passing the time until he’d be in a bigger city for college, where he could work with more advanced instructors.

    After the show was finished, he changed back into his regular clothes—jeans and a pink shirt, with a denim newsboy cap that just skirted the line between awesome and hideous. His family met him in the lobby, with hugs all around.

    When Sharpay put her arms around his neck, she hissed, “Don’t look around because you’ll look like an idiot, but Danforth is off to your left holding a bouquet and looking like he might throw up at any moment.”

    Ryan smiled a little. “That’s exactly the effect I like to have on people.”

    “Yeah, I figured.” She slapped his back. “Heads up.”

    As she backed off, Ryan tried to turn around casually…and there was Danforth. He was dressed up again, the way he had for the car show, and like Sharpay had said, he was holding a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers in one hand. And yes—the look on his face could definitely be interpreted as ‘trying not to puke’.

    “Hey. Danforth,” Ryan said, smiling. He put his hands in his pockets. “You came.”

    Danforth nodded. “Yeah. I, um.” He held out the flowers. “These are for you. I don’t really know what you’re supposed to do for someone at at dance recitals, but that’s what my cousin told me.”

    “Your cousin told you to buy me flowers?”

    Danforth nodded. “Yeah. The dancer cousin.”

    “Okay. Well. Thanks.” Ryan laughed a little and accepted them. “Thanks.”

    “Welcome.”

    They stood there kind of awkwardly for a few seconds. Finally, Ryan said, “You liked the tights?”

    Danforth blushed. “I, um, I…you know.”

    “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

    Danforth nodded. “Um. So…How are you?”

    “I’m okay.” He gestured with the bouquet. “And I have flowers. So I’m having a nice night.”

    “Good! I mean, cool. I mean…Evans—uh, Ryan—can I ask you a…a question?”

    “Sure…Chad,” Ryan said, trying the name out. “Anything.”

    “Well, uh. It’s kind of…I mean…I guess I just wanted to ask, like…”

    “Can I guess? Is it, would I like to go get dinner and see a late movie?” Ryan suggested.

    Danforth—_Chad_, Ryan thought—stared. “Well,” he said finally, “I was _going_ to if you wanted to, like, hang out some time…in a completely unclear, are-we-on-a-date-or-not way, actually.”

    “How very crafty of you.” Ryan grinned at him, and Chad looked startled.

    “Uh, that was another cousin’s idea. But I like yours better. You know, with the movie and dinner and all.”

    “Great.” Ryan grinned and reached for Chad’s hand with his own free hand, and wasn’t surprised that Chad’s palm was a little sweaty. But Chad didn’t pull away, which was a good sign. So Ryan leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Chad made a noise that sounded a little confused, so Ryan said, “That is, thanks for the flowers. You okay?”

    “Yeah! I mean, that was fine. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

    “No?”

    “No. Try it again. I’m completely ready now.”

    “Well, if you insist.” Ryan kissed him again, and this time Chad dropped his hand and wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and kissed him back. Open mouthed. Now it was Ryan’s turn to be a little startled, though he definitely didn’t object any. Though he did break it off before it became full on making out—after all, his parents were watching.

    “See?” Chad smirked. “I’m awesome.”

    “Oh, yeah, completely.” Ryan grinned. “And cocky, too.”

    “Me?” Chad feigned offence, then laughed. “Yeah, a little. I think I’ve got a right.”

    “And why’s that?” Ryan asked, amused.

    “Well. See, most of the summer, I was just really confused, and then kind of freaking out, and then really nervous. Around you, I mean.”

    Ryan nodded.

    “But then I had a, whatsit, a revelation. Also about you. And the fact that you’ve been constantly inviting me places and taking me out to dinner and buying me presents…And you know, at some point it just became obvious. That you totally have a thing for me, I mean.” Chad nodded to himself. “And that’s the sort of thing that makes a guy cocky.”

    Ryan laughed. “You figured all that out by yourself?”

    “Well, maybe some of it was kind of pointed out to me. Whatever, you totally want me. That’s the important part.”

    Ryan considered it, then nodded. “So do I get to be cocky that I’ve gotten you to out yourself, at least to a few cousins and my family?”

    “And pretty much everyone else,” Chad said. “I’m not a shy guy. You may have noticed.”

    “Yeah, I picked up on that.” Ryan kissed him again, though fairly quickly.

    Chad glanced over towards Ryan’s family, then asked,  “So did you want to get out of here?”

    “Absolutely.”

    They returned to holding hands, and Ryan gestured at his family with the bouquet. Sharpay gave him a thumbs up and his parents waved. “I drove the Impala tonight,” Ryan mused as they walked out.

    “Yeah?”

    “Yeah. You want to drive?”

    “Oh _hell_ yes. Hey, how did you know I was gay, anyway?” Chad asked as they walked to the parking lot.

    “Chad, the thing is,” Ryan said, half-laughing as he spoke, “you were kind of obvious. Your family already knew when you told them. I bet you anything.”

    “Well, yes.” Chad unlocked the car and they climbed in. “I mean, no one seemed surprised.” He put the key to the ignition and pulled out of the parking spot. “Wow! Just look at that sunset,” he added, and reached up to adjust the driver’s side visor. “So where to?”

    “I’ve already taken you to my favorite restaurant,” Ryan said. “So I don’t know.”

    “We could just drive around awhile,” Chad said, smiling. “And maybe park somewhere later.”

    “Parking already? You really _aren’t_ shy, huh?”

    “I meant at a restaurant! We could just find one at the side of the road, and…” Chad shot a quick look at Ryan as they sped off into the sunset. “We’ll see where we end up.”

    “I guess we will,” Ryan mused. Which was kind of funny, when he thought about it. For all his scheming and plotting, here they were, driving off into the sunset together, with no idea where they’d end up.

    Actually, it was kind of nice.


End file.
